 Firelight glistened on their royal bodies, on flashing spears and bristling decorations. Mothatu watched the strange scene, powerless to move, and he felt doom itself breathing chill upon his neck. In that very instant, he heard a crashing in the undergrowth. Four figures were tearing toward him through the jungle. He could see them now. He turned and ran blindly down the trail, slipping, sliding, stumbling, his breath all but choking in his throat. Only one thought gave him courage as he ran, his canoe ready and waiting.